


Star77

by l_obsidienne



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, could use some more work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_obsidienne/pseuds/l_obsidienne
Summary: I am forcing my way out of writer's block for "Long Live the Queen" by writing everything that comes to mind. And I am posting everything because... well because I can. I hope you like this fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am forcing my way out of writer's block for "Long Live the Queen" by writing everything that comes to mind. And I am posting everything because... well because I can. I hope you like this fluff.

Star77: “U there?”  
Twelve_Moons: “Yah”  
Typing…  
Star77: “It’s late.”  
Twelve_Moons: “I know u didn’t come online just to tell me to go to sleep.”  
Twelve_Moons: “What’s up?”  
Star77: “Don’t think I have slept this week.”  
Star77: “I’M GOING TO DIE”  
Star77: “Of exhaustion.”  
Twelve_Moons: “Go to bed, Seven.”  
Twelve_Moons: “You need rest.”  
Star77: “I would.”  
Star77: “But.”  
Star77: “Secret Agent Hackers”  
Star77: “NEVER SLEEP”  
Twelve_Moons: “You need rest to recalibrate your cognitive synapses so your thought process goes smoother”  
Typing…  
Star77: “… you have no idea what you just said…”  
Twelve_Moons: “Of course not. I hoped you wouldn’t catch on”  
Star77: “It worked for a second…”  
Twelve_Moons: “Seven, I’m going to sleep. You go, too.”  
Star77: “Night.”  
……………………………………………………………………………..  
She closed down her laptop and sighed, shaking her head. That man will never learn. She looked to her right and noticed the half drank cup of black coffee, shaking her head – well apparently, neither would her. But then again, night was a haven for lovers and artists and she couldn’t think of drawing during daylight. Also, she had a chance or two to actually talk to him as well.  
She didn’t know him. Did not know how he looked like, did not know his real name, his voice or his age. She had no idea if anything he had told her was true, but she wanted to believe everything he typed. It was thrilling to know that she was the favorite online persona of a hacker who worked for a secret agency. Plus… besides that, he was sweet. He was kind and always listened to her when she had any problems. She never spoke to him live and never asked any questions about him and that made him feel safe and at ease. Frankly, she didn’t care much. All that she asked is that he sent her at least a message a day so she knew he was safe. And if he didn’t, she’d worry and type everything in caps lock for a few days afterwards, as punishment. The closest interaction they had was when she told him she placed one of her paintings in a PO box close to the airport and hid the key under a potted plant. He then sent her a picture of the painting a few days later and she knew he got it. It made her happy that she had something that she put so much in.  
He was a thing to look forward to at the end of a rough day, a rough month, a rough year. The life of a struggling artist – a cliché, but he always was there to listen about all her worries. He sat through her ranting about rent and not being paid properly for commissions and roaches and eviction and near homelessness and then her gallery and somewhat success. And she has been there for his insecurities and losses and talked him through anxiety and fears. As farfetched as the hacker story seemed, she couldn’t help but feel he was genuine, at least when talking about how he was feeling.  
She gave one more look to the laptop – feeling sorry that she had to sign out, but she was beyond exhausted and she knew he was taking from his sleeping time to stay and talk to her as well.  
…………………………………………………………………  
“Night…” He sighed and looked at his computer and the “Twelve_Moons has signed off” line with a sigh. He moved his feet off his desk and turned on his second monitor, looking at her face next to one of her paintings at her latest gallery. He ran a hand through his red hair, and fidgeted in his chair then went to open an inbox. Clicked on New Mail.  
To: /insert e-mail address here/  
CC:   
BCC: everyone@RFA.org  
Subject: Business proposal – Art, Charity and Fund Raising

Dear Artist,

I am representing the RFA, an organization in charge of numerous successful fundraisers for various charities.  
I have stumbled upon your art and noticed some of your galleries and would like to cordially invite you to one of our Galas. If you would so kindly agree, I hope to hear from you with your mailing address so a proper invitation should be sent out to you.  
You would be able to meet people in the art business as well as investors, media moguls, gallery owners and art clubs.  
More information about our charity work is available on our website listed below, you can also find a gallery of photos and statements from our guests as well as beneficiaries.  
Cordially,  
Luciel  
He sighed and clicked on Send. He had, of course, discussed inviting her to the fundraiser with the others, but they did not know the main reason. To them, she was an artist, and maybe she could donate a painting. Frankly, they did not care much about someone who’s name just started appearing in the business but they gave Seven his wish.  
Seven finished his drink of Phd. Pepper and set the can in the trashcan under his desk, taking off his t-shirt and grabbing his phone. He walked the few steps to his bed and let himself fall on it, unlocking his phone to check the RFA Chatroom.   
707: Artist  
707: INVITED!  
707: Now let’s hope SHE SAYS YES  
707:   
No sooner had he sent his last message that his phone sounded his email notification.  
“From: /insert email address here/  
To: Luciel@rfa.org  
Subject: RE: Business proposal – Art, Charity and Fund Raising  
Luciel,  
Thank you for your invitation. I would be honored to take part in such a prestigious event. Please allow me to contribute with a few paintings to be auctioned off, proceeds to be donated to the charity of choice.  
My mailing address is: “  
………………………………………………………  
Twelve_Moons: “Seven! I’ve been invited to a super awesome event! There will be so many art people around there…”  
Twelve_Moons: “I can’t wait. I’m donating some paitings, too.”  
……………………………………………………..  
He had not replied that day. Or the day after. She had begun to worry about him. All kinds of scenarios were forming in her head, all of them ending with him dying some horrific death at the hands of his hacker enemies. One week later, she had cried for him.  
She missed the mysterious man who had become her secret friend. She cried the loss of a phantom that she grew to love in the years they knew eachother. It was silly, she said to herself. She did not know how he looked like, did not know how many lies he told to her, but he was there for her when she did not have anyone or anything t her name. She fell in love selfishly for the ghost that for a few minutes in a day was dedicated to him.  
Months passed and she carried on her life without him. Eventually she started checking their private chatroom less and less. Even though she would get a notification if he wrote something, she at least wanted to see that “Star77 Has logged on” just to know he was ok. And what was weird to her was that she never once thought that he was not there because he got bored of her. No. He must’ve had a different reason.   
………………………………………………………..  
The day of the Gala started and she was getting ready. She spent the last week thinking about what she could wear so that she could fit in and finally settled for a simple black dress down to the floor and a chocker, her hair up in a bun and light make-up.   
She took a taxi to the event and presented her invitation at the door, smiling at the man with white hair who took the ticket and ushered her in by the small of her back.  
“An honor to have you, Miss. Your paintings look amazing, we are 20 minutes in the Gala and one sold already for 75 thousand dollars.”  
“Oh? Such a high amount! It’s for charity so people do overspend. But I am glad that somebody can use that money for good.”  
“I don’t think of it as overspending.” He flashed a gorgeous smile. “My name is Zen! I am a member of the association that organized this fundraiser.”  
“Pleasure is all mine, I’m sure!” She smiled at the man and looked in the direction he was pointing at, to a man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.  
“This is Jumin Han, CEO of C&R. Also a member of the association”  
“Mr. Han, a pleasure. I am-…”  
“Oh, I know who you are.” He smiled at her and kissed her hand gallantly. “We are honored that you could join and thank you so much for your considerate donation!”  
“No need to thank me. I am always happy to help.”  
“Your paintings are really great. One could tell the amount of soul you poured into them.” He turned slightly to put his hand on the small of her back and lead her to the bar. “A drink?”  
“Thank you! It means a lot for you to say that. Yes, I will take a drink, thank you. But... non alcoholic, please.” She blushed at him and he gallantly ordered her a fresh juice.  
“Have you been painting for long?” He asked. It was effortless for him to hold a conversation, it seemed and he did his best to keep her entertained in the dialogue.  
“My whole life” She answered as she took a sip of the fresh. “Do you enjoy art?”  
“I enjoy looking at it. I think no room is complete without a piece of art to compliment it. Ah, Jaehee! Come meet the amazing artist who has so graciously gave us a part of herself to help those in need”  
“Oh! I have one of your paintings from last year’s gallery!” Jaehee mused and shook her hand while Jumin excused himself to greet another guest. “You must excuse me thought I have to see that things are being done properly.”  
“Of course! Thank you for your support.” She thanked Jaehee and bowed softly as the other one left quickly to go fuss about something.  
She smiled to herself, holding her glass in both dainty hands and chewed on her lower lip slightly. She then found a spot on the bar to look at while trying to gather enough courage to go and talk to anyone there. It was frightening to even think of and she looked at her phone, hoping to have him online there to give her courage.  
“Come on, Seven…” She whispered. “I need you to make fun of how silly I am.” She sighed and sipped from her drink a bit when she heard a voice behind her.  
“You’re not silly. Moon.”   
She fell her heart freeze in her chest and her fingers clutch tighter at the glass. She could not think of anyone else who would know her by that nickname. Not after all these years.  
“I don’t think you are… at least.” He shrugged behind her, even if she didn’t see him.  
“How… did you know I was here?” She asked in a whisper again, a bit harsher. Her eyes were misty already and she felt tears threatening to fall down her cheeks at the mere thought that it could be him. Standing there, behind her. Talking to her. With the voice of a young man.  
“I invited you of course.” He answered and seemed to not move at all from where he stood.  
She felt a stone drop from her chest and she smiled and turned. “Mister Luciel! I apologize, I thought it was someone else.” She smiled at him and shook his hand.  
He looked at her – more beautiful than he could have even imagined from those photos. Polished and perfect, standing right in front of him. Of course, he would’ve preferred a paint stain on her cheek, a smudge on her nose and her hair messy.  
“Seven!” Someone called and she froze again. It was a blond young man that walked towards the red-head in front of her.  
“Se…ven?” She asked herself more than anyone else. She dropped the glass at the realization.  
It was real. He was there, in front of her. He found her somehow and he invited her at this party. Somehow through his… hacking. Which was true, he was a hacker. How else could he have found her otherwise? She did tell him that she was a painter but she never shared her real name or any other picture other than the painting she sent him. She couldn’t even focus on the conversation the two of them were having. She was just staring at him. A young redhead with thick rimmed glasses, wearing a white shirt and black jeans.   
“It’s you…”   
She had no clue how to react. With him standing there in front of her with a warm smile. With the knowledge that he had invited her here, that everything he said was true. She blinked her eyes open and closed and looked down at the shards of glass at her feet, trying to take in the image of this young man in front of her. Her young man. Her best friend. Her phantom that was touchable. She was only brought back to reality when a voice called at her.  
“Are you ok? You look deathly pale…” Jaehee asked her and she looked at her and nodded.  
“Oh! Yes I think I ate something bad before I arrived here. This is so embarrassing.” She smiled. “Uhm.. Luciel was taking me outside.”  
Seven looked at her and nodded. With a hand on her lower back, he walked with her outside, ignoring the concerned whispers of the people around and the voice of Jaehee who tried to calm everyone down and get them back to enjoying the party. Once hit by the warm summer air though, he stopped and turned to look at her.  
“I-… had a whole speech prepared but I forgot it all.” He chuckled nervously and looked at her still shock stricken face. “Please say something…” he pleaded.  
“I-…” she shook her head and leaned against the wall, covering her face with her hands. “I am so mad at you..”  
“I am sorry for not telling you. I’m sorry for surprising you like thi-…” he was silenced by her hand slapping him across his cheek.  
“I thought you were dead” She sighed, biting her lip. “You could’ve talked to me…”  
“I-…”  
“I cried for you.” She sniffed and wiped her tearful eyes. “I thought I lost you. I thought someone killed you!” She punched at his chest again and again. He made no move to stop her. Just put one heel behind him to ground himself and let her have her way. He would take all her punches, hands to his sides, looking at the lovely face that has been haunting him since they first talked. He sighed when her punches lost force and she grew tired and only moved when she fell on his chest, hiding her face and wrapping her arms around him. His own arms went around her and he soothingly stroke her back, speaking in the softest voice he could muster.  
“I’m sorry. I am. I knew who you were long ago and I couldn’t just be an online presence in your life. The thought of actually pursuing you haunted me for ages and two months ago was when I finally gave in. I couldn’t log on after that because I couldn’t talk to you without telling you how excited I was to meet you. I should’ve waited closer to the event because I missed you… but I couldn’t. I’m sorry… I really am. I am an idiot sometimes and I don’t know how to deal with some emotions. So I buried myself in work and avoided you.”  
She sniffed and looked at him, wiping her eyes. He was smiling down at her still and she shook her head. She forgave him the second she realized it was him, but…  
“I had to punch you because I couldn’t write in all caps.” She sniffed and chuckled.  
And he kissed her. There, behind the building, in a dark alley. He held her in his arms and kissed her like he has never kissed anyone in his life. The painter who stole his heart with her sense of humor and wit and smarts was right there for him and he made a vow to never let her go.


End file.
